


I can make it right

by lunarblossoms



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarblossoms/pseuds/lunarblossoms
Summary: EmetWol Valentine's Week Day 6 : Lover's QuarrelEmet hadn't meant to make Zeph angry with him, and that's why he's going to rectify the situation.
Relationships: Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Kudos: 17





	I can make it right

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this early last year and never shared it so I figured it fit enough with today's prompt that I could post it now. I modified some of it today but 90% of it is unchanged from the original writing (not that it really matters). 
> 
> Please enjoy~

Emet finds Zeph in Lakeland, on an upper cliff digging through old ruins with a set of tools before him and a journal precariously resting on a nearby rock in which he keeps occasionally jotting notes. He's completely wrapped up in his task, and that makes it a simple feat for Emet to approach entirely unnoticed.

He hadn't meant to find Zeph, he would argue. He never does. It isn't like he has all the time in the world to just follow the Warrior of Light and Darkness around constantly, and unquestionably, he doesn't care enough for something as intensive as that. Why would he? But regardless, he's here now, watching Zeph, and he's unlikely to leave for any reason despite what he tells himself.

Zeph seems... peaceful as he studies the ruins, like there isn't the fate of a world that isn't his own resting on his shoulders and all that matters to him is the piles of rubble in front of him. And there's a certain grace to the way he works as well, the precision of his movements, the dedication and determination glittering in his eyes like somehow he's right at home surrounded by nothing but dirt, trees, and rocks. He just keeps toiling away, hour after hour to uncover secrets it seems only he is capable of understanding. Hour after hour...

Alright, perhaps he'll be a bit bored if he does nothing but watch. 

Emet rolls his eyes at his own predictability and then deliberately swishes his robes and taps his feet on the ground in a way that's barely audible, though one that he knows Zeph would never be able to miss no matter how focused he currently is. A sound to signal his arrival, as it were. And it works, of course.

"You know, some people would consider watching someone silently a form of harassment."

"Well, it is only harassment if the person being watched considers it as such," Emet responds smugly, walking forward until he's standing beside Zeph, although the miqo'te doesn't look up at him and simply keeps investigating the ruins in front of him, a vastly old structure with a purpose that seems mysteriously unclear. "As I recall, you're rather fond of my presence, so harassment this is certainly not."

Zeph huffs. "You say that," he grumbles, but he's smiling a little as he takes a small sample of the stone and wraps it in a cloth before tucking it into his bag. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of the ever phlegmatic Emet-Selch's company?"

Emet might give an answer if he had one, but he doesn't- and all possible excuses continue to evade him- so he settles for a noncommittal shrug that he's not even sure Zeph will see, since he still hasn't looked up.

Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't, but he swallows before saying, "... One might assume that you are fond of my presence as well, considering how much time you spend with me."

Emet blanches a little at that, the counter argument feeling like a slap in the face. "Make no mistake, I harbor no such affinity," he says, the sharp twinge in his chest catching him off guard. _Liar_ , a voice in the back of his mind barks. Emet ignores it and turns his gaze from Zeph to the ruins.

Whether the words affect Zeph in anyway, he doesn't show it.

"Fascinating, aren't they?" He says after a few moments of quiet. 

It takes Emet longer than he would admit to realize that Zeph means the rubble, and he narrows his eyes at the old debris, willing himself to see what Zeph sees. "Boring, if you ask me." Not really boring. It's a little intriguing, imagining what might have once stood at this spot, hundreds of years ago, as far back as Emet has lived. The words still leave his mouth all the same, though. "Nothing but rubbish and stone. Why do you waste your time?"

That apparently gets under Zeph's skin. "A waste of time, it is not!" He says instantly, nearly dropping the tool in his hand with the passion of his outburst. Emet blinks at him, his brows raised. "We must learn as much as we can about our history. All that existed before us led up to the present and shaped the world as we know it. It is simply folly to ignore the facts when there's so much we can gain from understanding the past- from _remembering_ the past."

 _Remembering…_ Emet feels a strange chill shiver down his spine, nostalgia hitting him like a wave. To remember the past… Isn't that what he's spent all this time doing? Hasn't this all been for those he has lost, for the past every world forgot and erased, that remains buried at the bottom of the sea? What else matters more than the past, than the very beginning of everything and the origins of every fractured soul that inhabits these broken shards?

His heart thrums in his chest, a heavy drum beat that echoes in his ears and pulses in his fingertips. He doesn't want this feeling… He doesn't want to concede that Zeph is right.

He needs something- anything- to distract him. His gaze travels down the ruins until it lands on the journal and without thinking at all, he moves abruptly and snatches it up, beginning to flip through the pages. "So this is where you keep all your notes, hm? Shall I see if there's anything about me?"

The desired effect is achieved as Zeph leaps up immediately, grasping frantically at the journal that Emet holds out of his reach with ease. "Give that back!"

"Give it back? But I should so like to read through it first. Is there something you don't want me to see in the contents, perhaps?" 

"Emet!"

He dances away from Zeph, smirking while Zeph chases him and keeps trying to jump up and grab the book to no avail. Simply not tall enough, all he can do is follow on Emet's heels until Emet gives in. A good laugh, Emet thinks this is. He'll mess around a little longer and then return the journal to Zeph without protest.

But he's distracted, of course. He had meant for it, to keep away the thoughts he didn't want to have, but at the same time, it means that he's not quite fully paying attention to his surroundings. One moment he's holding the journal up over his head while taunting Zeph and then the next, Zeph has jumped at him and he's suddenly leaning precariously over the edge of the cliff that he hadn't realized he had approached, dangerously close to losing his balance. Before he can process anything, his grip on the notebook shifts and he can't stop it from tumbling out of his hands at the same time that he moves forward to counteract the movement and keep both himself and Zeph on the ground.

Zeph isn't half so inclined to stay there, though. "No!" His piercing cry echoes around the area like a gunshot as he lunges forward and probably would have gone right over if Emet hadn't shot back toward him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Emet can't see the journal anymore. It's disappeared into the abyss below and Zeph seems to realize that as well because a moment later, he slumps to the ground, incredibly still and quiet.

Certain that Zeph isn't going to plummet to his death anymore, Emet distances himself, his chest feeling strange, hands suddenly sweaty as he backs away from the miqo'te. What is he supposed to say? He shouldn't even care about these circumstances- what does it matter to him that he just accidentally dropped Zeph's research notes over a cliff? The research notes that are the most important thing in the world to Zeph, his very lifeline kept in one small book? What does it matter… 

He swallows hard. "That wasn't-" he begins to say, but faster than he can even form the words, Zeph cuts him off.

"Shut up!" His voice is a low, sharp growl, cutting at Emet's skin like daggers and causing Emet's eyes to widen in shock. "I don't want to hear your damn excuses, just- get out of my sight!"

Oh.

Legitimate anger. 

For the first time, Zeph is actually angry with him. For all his teasing, all his playful jabs, Zeph has never once snapped at Emet for any reason. This… This is new. The vitriol in his tone- and if he were looking at Emet, he has a feeling those normally soft eyes would be full of rage and disgust. The only time that Zeph has truly been mad at him...

Emet blinks at Zeph and feels a sharp twinge in his chest, the sensation both painful and discomforting. Regret, maybe? Guilt? It feels like it's eating away at his insides. Why is it that Emet can never do anything right? He knows he brought this on himself- he's only ever been good at ruining the good things in his life- and he only has himself to blame… but that isn't going to fix the problem. All he can do is acquiesce at this point.

He watches for a few more seconds, as Zeph falls to his knees and buries his face in his hands, and then he uses his teleportation magicks to slip away silently without another word.

No. This isn't how it's going to end, he thinks to himself. He can right this wrong.

Emet watches from the shadows as Zeph eventually, very slowly gets to his feet. He takes his time staring over the edge of the cliff, as if he somehow thinks he'll be able to spot his lost notebook even at this height, but eventually, he gives in and after one last pause and a sigh that seems to wrack his entire body, he teleports away. Emet assumes he's gone back to his room at the Pendants in the Crystarium, but that's irrelevant at this point because he has a job to do now.

He magicks himself down the cliffside and begins his search, inspecting every inch of ground at the bottom and even wading through the water at the shore in search of the journal. He has no idea how much time passes, only that by the time he's beginning to wonder if this is a fruitless endeavor, the sun is already slipping lower into the sky, painting it in rosy hues that glow over the purple flora of Lakeland.

Emet sighs. The return of night in the area really does complicate matters, doesn't it. If he has any hope of finding the journal, it will have to be soon before he loses what's left of the daylight.

And that's when he spots it. 

For a mercy, he doesn't have to continue searching in darkness, at least. The book is floating a little ways off from the shore, pages sopping wet from soaking in the water for a prolonged period of time as it moves in and out and with the gentle tide. But the sorry sight of it elicits another sigh from his lips. As he moves over and picks it up, he's forced to admit there's no way he can return it in its current state. Not that he had truly expected this to go any differently, in the end, but he can't help the small pang of disappointment he feels.

The scenery around him fades quickly, fuschia trees and lavender fields replaced with dark, familiar buildings towering over him, his feet following the path without even the slightest hesitation. To his normal workspace, in the back of the administrative offices, he thinks. He strides past the shadows of Amaurotines around him, the groups of them continuing on just as he left them, and doesn't stop moving until he's holed up in the quiet of his room. Like coming home, except it never truly is home, of course. His hands shake just the slightest bit as he settles at the desk by the back wall, placing the ruined journal on top of it. 

Though he knows how painstaking the task before him is, the only true way to fix the notebook is if he uses creation magicks to replace it entirely- but that also means he needs to go over every single page individually and recreate each piece of information without error, so that when the journal comes into existence once more, it will be an exact copy and not a pale imitation. The lengths he's willing to go, for Zeph's sake… but now isn't the time to think too hard on that. He has to focus for this to work.

Despite his own extensive knowledge on most of these subjects, it feels different reading about it coming from someone else's experiences. The Allagans, the lost city of Amdapor, Meracydia, the Ronkan Empire… Zeph has studied many and more of the ancient civilizations that exist between the Source and the First and his astute observations prove the power of his intellect, his ability to look at the ruins of times long past and comprehend their history with surprising accuracy. Emet finds himself mildly impressed as he reads more and more, as he commits each detail, every flourish of Zeph's handwriting to memory.

And as he works… he remembers something else. A faint memory at the back of his mind, that grows stronger with the passing seconds. The one and only time he can remember that Azem was actually angry with him. It had seemed like something trivial at the time, because Emet's only concern had been Persy's life, but Emet can recall the rage that burned in Persy's eyes- the partial destruction of his garden when Emet had done his best to protect Persy himself without a second thought as to the flowers. Then there was the painful silence that followed, the cold shoulder as Persy ignored Emet went back to the burnt, shriveled up flowers around him, kneeling down and clutching his children to his chest.

The first time Emet truly regretted something. He should have been more careful. He easily could have protected both Persy and the flowers, if he had thought harder about the circumstances…

At least, things had worked out in the end, of course. That was how Persy ended up with his beloved greenhouse, after all. And more vibrantly than the anger, stronger than the sorrow of losing his flowers, Emet remembers the joy on Persy's face the first time he saw it, his euphoria over Emet's creation, and the recreation of many of those lost flowers inside. That had been the moment that Emet vowed he would never do anything to upset Persy ever again. He would protect Persy's smile at the same time as he tirelessly worked to keep Persy safe from harm.

Perhaps… Perhaps things will work out with Zeph like this, just as they did in the past. It's a comparison he would normally loathe to make but on this occasion... he might allow himself a little leeway. A small amount of hope.

Once again, he's unsure how much time has passed but he's certain it must be well into the night when he at last reaches the final pages of the journal. Contained there is all of Zeph's notes on the ruins in Lakeland, which he's clearly been working on for several days already. Unfinished research, theories and ideas scribbled in the margins, analyses of samples from different areas… It must have taken so much work. And Emet had gone and simply dropped the book off a cliff in his carelessness... He feels a twinge in his chest, guilt acutely pricking at his heart like glass, and he hurries to finish his project so he can return to Zeph.

With the last page finally completed, Emet is able to fully bring the replicated journal into existence, the book forming into something tangible and solid on the desk in front of him. He picks it up, his fingers itching with vague excitement, and flips through it a little to be certain that he didn't make any mistakes. But of course, his work is flawless as it usually is, and his copy is now far more acceptable than the ruined original. Good, he thinks. Then it shall certainly serve its purpose.

Satisfied, he turns on his heel and snaps his fingers, the scenery around him changing once more. Leaving Amaurot behind, he materializes in the familiar room at the Pendants that he's spent far more time in recently than he would care to admit. His feet tap softly across the tiled floor as he moves toward the bed, where he can see Zeph sprawled haphazardly, as if the miqo'te had returned to his chambers and done nothing other than throw himself with force onto the mattress.

When Zeph hears the sound of footfalls, he lifts his head curiously but his eyes narrow at the sight of Emet before he drops back down and lets out a low, threatening growl. Emet stops moving, hands up in surrender.

"Still mad at me, eh?" He chuckles awkwardly. "Well, as it just so happens, I've only come for one reason and if you so wish my absence after this, then I shall be more than glad to comply."

At that, Zeph shifts more and pulls himself slowly into a seated position. His eyes are still dark and he doesn't stop glaring- not that Emet could blame him for that- but he at least seems intrigued as he blinks expectantly at Emet, and that's enough for Emet to continue without hesitation. "I bring a peace offering," he says, brandishing the replicated journal with a flourish as he approaches the bed and holds it out to Zeph.

In an instant, Zeph's eyes go wider than Emet has ever seen them, his jaw dropping. "... My journal..." he says, completely astonished. He doesn't stand but he shifts yet again, onto his knees so he can reach up and retrieve the notebook from Emet's hands. He turns it over, examines it like a child would a brand new toy as he brushes his fingers over the cover and then flips through the pages. An awed sigh escapes his lips, all anger gone from his features, which have softened into gentle confusion. "... But how? It must have fallen into the water… There's no way it could still be in such pristine condition-"

"That is beside the point, my dear Zeph," Emet interrupts. It's not like he's about to confess that he spent hours making a fixed up version of the journal just for Zeph, and definitely not because he actually felt bad about what happened. No, he did what he came here to do so now it's time he left. "Now you can continue your research to your heart's content and I will stop getting in your way."

There. He made things right. That's enough, isn't it?

He turns to leave, wholly ready to teleport himself away from the room but he pauses when he hears Zeph's voice behind him.

"Emet, wait," he says. And something in his tone keeps Emet in his place, the way he always seems to have a hold on Emet no matter what Emet does to attempt escape.

… Perhaps he knows why that is, in the very back of his mind, but he's not going to think about that. Not right now- perhaps not ever. "You.. must have been searching for a long time to find this just for me," Zeph says quietly. "I… That is to say… Thank you." 

Genuine gratitude this time. A stark contrast to the rage he had displayed earlier that day when Emet first angered him. An improvement, to be sure.

Emet turns back to scoff at him. "I suppose you're welcome, just this once." Though he tries to play it off, his heart feels somehow lighter when Zeph smiles at him: a tender smile full of warmth that Emet hadn't realized he had been missing. He wants to hold onto that warmth- he always does- but his first instinct is still to distance himself so he begins to leave again. 

But for the second time, Zeph stops him.

"Don't go," the Warrior of Light says hastily, as if he's worried Emet will be gone before he can get the words out. "You-you can stay, so please..."

Emet hates to admit that he might be developing a certain weakness to a certain miqo'te after all. "Not upset anymore?" he presses, even though he knows the answer already.

"... No, I'm not," Zeph confirms with a small, almost shy nod. He opens up his arms in a familiar gesture, one he has used on Emet more than once in the past with an unprecedented success rate; and although Emet rolls his eyes, he can't hold back the smile that tugs on his lips as he moves to the bed and climbs onto it. He really can't say no to Zeph, can he?

In less than a second, Zeph is already embracing Emet, clinging to him and pulling himself closer, nuzzling against Emet while his ears flick against Emet's chin in delight. Emet laughs at his eagerness, nearly losing his balance but somehow managing to maneuver the both of them so that they're laying down comfortably with Zeph propped on his chest, curled up on top of him. There's a low rumble of a purr in Zeph's throat and the sensation of it vibrates through Emet's body.

This… This is much better. Something about cuddling with Zeph never fails to fill Emet with a strange sense of peace. Never again, he thinks offhandedly- mayhap not even entirely of his own volition.

He won't give Zeph a reason to be mad at him again.


End file.
